


Turn Up the Heat

by keiran_emrys



Series: Summer Pornathon 2011 - Team Envy [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, First Time, M/M, Public Sex, Stripper!Merlin, club!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiran_emrys/pseuds/keiran_emrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's friends drag him to Gwaine's club for his birthday and he goes reluctantly. That is until a certain someone steps on stage for his performance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Up the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended for this prompt at the Merlin Song Fic Fest: Adam Lambert – For Your Entertainment. Merlin is a stripper in Gwaine's club; Arthur's friends (including Gwaine) drag him to the club for his birthday. Arthur is resistant of his friends’ plans for his birthday... until Merlin steps onto the stage to do his act. Gwaine is all smug because he knew Merlin would get Arthur's attention.
> 
> I used this story as a starting point for the Summer Pornathon Challenge #6 – Happy Endings. I was Entry #33. This is that ficlet in its expanded form. (grr, those word limits XD)

**Do you know what you got into  
Can you handle what I am about to do**

“So… Arthur. What d’you say to having your annual Princess Party at my place, eh?” Gwaine is smirking as he speaks to Arthur. He even puts in a raised eyebrow for effect. The fact that Arthur cannot see him through the phone line makes no difference; Arthur can still tell that’s what he’s doing. Gwaine always does that when he talks. It’s… Gwaine. This is why Arthur is so not impressed; he’s too used to his friend’s ridiculous flirty attitude.

“Princess Party? Honestly Gwaine, that’s the best you can do? You’re losing your touch, mate. And no, I’m not celebrating my birthday in that den of iniquity you call a club. The last thing I need is a girl half my age and even less dressed all over my lap.”

“Oh, that’s not fair Arthur. I would never employ a minor. A man must have some scruples.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, even though Gwaine can’t see him. This is the third time Gwaine has tried to get Arthur to throw a birthday party at his club. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose; he’s really too old to be going to a club. Why can’t he just get smashed in the safe,  _quiet_  of his own home? 

“Gwaine…”

“Come on Arthur, you never come out with the boys anymore. At least come out for your last hurrah. You’re turning the big three-oh, you deserve a big fucking something. I promise you’ll love it.”

“I don’t know…” He trails off, resolve quite obviously crumbling. Gwaine jumps on his chance.

“I’ve got my best dancers working that night. And you’ll be in the VIP section so no one will be bothering you if you don’t want it,” Then Gwaine brings out his trump card, “Free drink tab. All night.” 

Arthur huffs a sigh, “Fine. But there better be vodka.”

Gwaine barks out a cheerful laugh, “Oh, by the bucket-full my friend. Ha, wait ‘til I tell the boys, this is too good. Alright then. I will see you’re royal arse on Thursday then. We’ll be around to pick you up at 8. Wear something… well, don’t wear a suit. Really.”

“Alright, fine Gwaine. I’ll find something.”

“Good boy. Now I’ve gotta go; got a new dancer in and let me tell you, he’s gonna be my best.”

The obvious pride and not-quite-hidden lust in Gwaine’s voice makes Arthur raise an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’ve slept with this one too? What, did he give you a lap dance for the job?” 

“Shush, we agreed never to talk about that ever again. And no, he’s just that hot. He did give me a short audition last week though. I think even  _you_  would like him.” The innuendo in that sentence could give an old lady a heart attack. Arthur concludes for the three hundred and forty seventh time that Gwaine is a lecherous bastard. It’s a wonder they’re still friends.

“Right, well, I rather doubt any of your dancers would be interested in someone like me. Besides, we’re _not_  setting me up. Just some time with you, me, the guys and a nice big bottle of Stoli.”

“Hah! Of course, only the best for you Mr. Pendragon,” Gwaine teases. “Alright, see you Thursday. And no changing plans!”

Arthur murmurs goodbye and jabs at the screen of his iPhone, finally ending the call. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Gwaine, just… Gwaine could be a bit much sometimes. And he was likely to be even more of a handful in his own club surrounded by all of his friends and trying to get them all as drunk as possible. Arthur rubs a hand across his forehead, already feeling the twinges of a headache coming on. Thursday was going to be a long fucking day.

 **‘Cause it’s about to get rough for you  
I’m here for your entertainment**

The club is practically pulsing with the beat of the music blaring from hidden speakers. The lights are dim and it’s a veritable cesspool of teenage and twenty-something hormones. For a moment it makes Arthur feel old. Then he shakes his head, determined to wipe the thought from his mind; he’s not  _that_  old for crying out loud. Dotted here and there Arthur sees the typical business man out looking for a good time, or maybe just something beautiful to look at. And there’s no shortage of that. 

Young women, and men, in their varying states of undress are placed strategically around the room. Some are dancing and slowly removing articles of clothes on the small stages, some are grinding seductively against the few wide poles in the room. In what could be called the middle of the room, or rather the focus of everything, there is a large wide stage connected to a curtained off backroom—supposedly where the dancers go to rest or change. 

At the moment the stage is empty but for one of those poles, which is set right in the middle. Gwaine once told him that everyone liked it when the action was right front and center. Arthur shifts his gaze to the small roped off area across from the stage; the VIP section, complete with its own private bar stocked with only the best. Usually reserved for important businessmen or international conglomerates who could afford it, tonight it was all for Arthur. Well, Arthur and his guests. Courtesy of the club’s owner and Arthur’s best friend, of course.

There are eight of them total tonight, Arthur and the only friends he had that he felt he could stand long enough to celebrate his birthday with. It is rather close, getting all of them into the smallish space composed of a few leather couches and small glass-top tables, but not uncomfortably so.

In fact, just about as soon as they queue up to the couches, Morgana decides that she absolutely had to dance and summarily drags Leon away to join her. Arthur and Gwaine share a look. They are under no illusions, but what Morgana and her husband do in the bedroom—or out of it, Arthur thinks with a sour taste in his mouth—is none of their business.

When they all get settled down and Arthur sinks down into the cushy leather and prepares for a rather uneventful night of listening to his friends heckle each other into drinking more and more until everyone is two sheets to the wind. At least, that’s how he’d expected tonight to go. Then Gwaine lets out a cheerful exclamation that makes him turn to see what’s got the other man so happy.

“Ah, Merlin!”

The first thing Arthur thinks when his eyes fall on the man Gwaine addressed is: cheekbones. Really, that’s the only thought that passes though his mind for maybe half a minute. Then the rest of his brain catches up with him and he looks at the rest of this ‘Merlin’. Merlin—and what a ridiculous name was that? Honestly, parents came up with some weird stuff, but this took the cake—seems to be about the same height as Arthur himself, and not only are his cheekbones sharp angles, but the rest of him is too. All lithe, wiry and pale skin; it figured that the first person they meet in here is  _exactly_  Arthur’s type.

“Gwaine,” Merlin leans in and lightly kisses Gwaine’s cheek before turning to look Arthur in the eye. Momentarily Arthur is struck dumb at the unnatural golden color of his eyes. Contacts, obviously, but for some reason they just  _work_  on him. Merlin smirks slightly, “So… Gwaine here tells me that you’re the birthday boy tonight. Can I get you anything… special?”

Now Arthur’s not stupid, he certainly knows when he’s being flirted with—and right now is a prime example—however, Arthur inwardly scowls, not ready to believe that Merlin, who looks to be barely legal, could possibly be interested in Arthur. So, he proceeds to react in a predictable Arthur Pendragon fashion. “We’ll take a bottle of Stolichnaya Elit. You can leave it there. I believe  _Gwaine_  here, has opened us a tab.”

Arthur’s tone is stiff and dismissive as he gestures at the small tables in front of them. Oddly enough, _Merlin_  doesn’t seem at all put off by Arthur’s rudeness. In fact, Arthur thinks to himself, the idiot’s smile seemed to have gotten ridiculously bigger.

“A bottle of Stoli it is. I’ll have Steve bring that right to you.”

“Steve?” Arthur sneers at Merlin, “What, are you incompetent as well as dumb? Can you not get it yourself? Are you a waiter or aren’t you?”

Merlin smiles beatifically, “I’m letting Steve handle it because my shift at the bar is done. Oh and also because you’re a bit of an ass and I would sooner tell you where you can shove you’re silly high-end vodka than serve it to you.”

Arthur’s mouth drops open, incredulous at this… this  _plebian_  speaking to him in such a way, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

Apparently  _Mer_ lin is an idiot of a special kind because he ignores the blatant death glare that’s being sent his way and just keeps talking. “Oh I’m sorry. You’re a bit of an ass,  _my lord_.”

Arthur is cut off before he even begins his comeback, by a large man dressed all in black. He walks in close to Merlin to whisper something in his ear. Arthur glares at the two of them, annoyed and a little bit frustrated at being ignored. He watches as Merlin nods and smiles at the man as he walks back the way he came. Then Merlin turns his smile to Arthur and it immediately becomes a smirk. 

“Well, that’s my cue to go. I’m wanted backstage.”

Arthur snorts derisively, “What, do they need a half-wit to help oil up the strippers?”

Merlin’s smirk gets wider as he leans in to speak closely to Arthur’s ear. “I suppose you’ll find out then won’t you. _Do_  enjoy the show won’t you?”

With one last wink over his shoulder, Merlin disappears behind the backstage curtain. Arthur most decidedly does not pout as he turns back to find Gwaine with a knowing look on his face. He’s thankfully saved from answering Gwaine’s raised eyebrow—and seriously does the man  _have_  to speak through his eyebrows all the time—by Steve arriving finally with their vodka. Now Arthur can get properly drunk and forget all about idiots by the ridiculous name of  _Merlin_. 

 **I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet  
You thought an angel swept you off you feet**

Over the next ten or so minutes Arthur does his best to forget about the raven-haired waiter/bartender/whatever-the-fuck-he-was, with the judicious use of excellent vodka and a little distracting from Gwaine. 

In fact, he had just about forgotten Mer-what’shisname when the pulsing rhythm of Nine Inch Nails starts up and just about everyone in the club turns towards the main stage. Arthur sends a questioning look towards Gwaine, who only shrugs and nods at the stage. It’s pretty apparent that Gwaine set up a special act, just for Arthur’s birthday. The bastard. Reluctantly Arthur turns back around to attempt to enjoy the show. 

A slim young man struts out to the center of the stage next to the thick pole. He’s wearing what looks like a school boy’s uniform, rather plain fare that doesn’t impress Arthur much. Though he does have to admit that the gyrating movements of the young man’s hips are practically sinful. 

The man’s head is down, hiding his face behind a fringe of raven hair, not that Arthur cares much about his face. He’d honestly rather keep his eyes on the man’s body. Unlike most other clubs, Gwaine hires strippers of all body types. In fact you’re more likely to see the lither, lightly muscled type than the highly buffed up ones everyone sees in so many clubs. Gwaine might have a thing for twinks, Arthur’s not really sure if he’s brave enough to find out if it’s true though.

The man is completely working the crowd now, gripping the pole in one hand, thrusting his hips against it. He tips his head back, a pantomime of ecstasy. His eyes are closed, but the face looks familiar, in fact it looks kind of like… The man’s eyes open and meet Arthur’s over the crowd. Arthur feels a jolt at the familiar gold contacts. 

 _Merlin_ , obnoxious little waiter boy, is up there on the stage,  _stripping_. Stripping very well and—fuck is he hot—pulling at the knot of his tie and tearing open his shirt one button at a time. Arthur’s fairly sure his mouth may have dropped open at this point, because he snaps it shut when Merlin has the gall to smirk at him and send him a fucking  _wink_  before turning around and sliding down the pole slowly, removing hit shirt as he goes.

Arthur swallows. Damn Gwaine for knowing what his type is. Damn him to hell. And damn Merlin, just for good measure. And because he’s a fucking  _tease_.

Gwaine is smug like a very smug thing when Merlin finally saunters off the stage—wearing nothing but a pair of very tight briefs, and goddamn is that boy packing—and Arthur is grudgingly willing to admit that he was right. He did love it. And now it’s all Gwaine’s fault that he’s horny and completely stuck on  _Merlin_. Arthur takes a gulp of his Stoli and tries not to choke at the burning feeling as it goes down. 

For several minutes Arthur steadfastly ignores Gwaine’s smugness. The third or so glass of vodka surely helps in that regard. About ten minutes later and he’s feeling a little bit tipsy, maybe a bit smashed. So you’ll excuse him when he jumps at the soft voice that suddenly makes itself known by his left ear.

“So… did you like the show?”

Arthur swivels his head and there he is. Merlin the waiter-boy. Or is it Merlin the stripper? Fuck knows; Arthur’s just drunk enough to not really care that he had previously been calling Merlin an idiot of the stupidest kind or that not fifteen minutes ago he’d seen said idiot in naught but his pants. In fact he may be drunk enough that he honestly just rather  _show_  Merlin how much he liked the performance.

Merlin raises and eyebrow and smirks down at him. “Oh really?”

Shit, had he said that out loud? “Er, I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Yep,” The smirk is still on Merlin’s face and he doesn’t seem bothered at all by Arthur’s presumptuous comment. Actually, he looks, dare he think it, interested. “You know, the loos here don’t get much use.”

Even in his state, Arthur can recognize an invitation when he sees it. He takes it. “Don’t they? Lead the way then.”

Arthur watches Merlin’s backside as the lithe man heads towards the back of the club. He could only hope that his arse look just as sexy out of those clothes as it did in them. 

Well, looks like he was about to find out.

 **But I’m about to turn up the heat  
I’m here for you entertainment**

“Fuck,  _Merlin_.” Arthur didn’t think it would be possible for Merlin to look even better than he had on that stage, but here, braced against wall in front of him, Arthur rutting fiercely into him and Merlin just  _taking_  it; fuck it’s hot. He’s hot. Arthur bites his lip hard and tightens his grip on Merlin’s hips. Merlin bites off a yelp as Arthur slams brutally into his prostate and jerks his head back. His neck is stretched out on display, looking so much better all sweaty and  _real_  than it did on stage.

Arthur releases one hip to reach and wrap around Merlin’s cock. Merlin gasps as Arthur quickly strokes him, clenching his muscles as his orgasm rips through him. Merlin pants out Arthur’s name as white stripes paint the wall. Arthur groans with him and pushes in as deep as he can, releasing himself into Merlin.

They stand there, panting and sweaty and close for a few minutes. The bathroom around them is silent, but for their heavy breathing. When Arthur manages to catch his breath, he pulls out of Merlin, cock giving a little twitch at the wet sound and the feel of his come in Merlin’s arse. They get dressed silently, shooting each other glances every now and then. Merlin looks absolutely debauched in his school boy stripper outfit, tie all crooked and hair mussed beyond help. Arthur has to restrain himself from combing his fingers through the raven locks to mess it up even more.

As they exit the room, Merlin to get back to his bartending duties and Arthur to get back to his birthday party and his mates, Merlin slips a piece of paper into Arthur’s hand.

“My number. Call me some time.” He winks and saunters off, leaving Arthur standing there smiling to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here is the song that I had Merlin dancing to](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IO4i8uObLKM). It’s an instrumental version of Deep by Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> Quick rec for those who are looking for an awesome stripper!Merlin fic: [Where the Pavement Ends](http://keepthemagicsecret.org/zarah5/pavement.html) by zarah5. I was inspired by the ‘look’ of Merlin in her story, especially the gold contacts (which are just hnng).


End file.
